


Through the Past

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Frottage, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Finrod had been reborn for some time before he finally discovered the cure to his father's troubles.
Relationships: Finarfin | Arafinwë/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, mentioned Curufin/Fëanor, past Eärwen/Finarfin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	Through the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elwinfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinfortuna/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this treat!

Finrod thought he had been reborn for far too long before he finally managed to untangle the mess of complicated feelings and relationships around his father and discover the solution to their troubles.

It was not that he had not tried before to relieve his father’s worries.

Indeed, he had tried such since the first night he had returned, when he had realized his mother had decided to remain apart from her husband. Finarfin smiled that night without a hint of true joy and told Finrod he was more than welcome to leave the city for Olwë’s lands, to dwell beside the sea until such time as more of their family returned from the Halls and Finrod wished to greet them.

Finrod had not left. In fact, he had immediately turned his efforts to trying to cheer up his father. If the first efforts of plying his father with cakes and sweets and arranging for all of Finarfin’s meals to be given to Finrod to deliver had ended only in Finrod having to chase his father through the city and eventually giving up on meals that required more than hands to eat, because Finarfin was always so busy he had no time to spare for utensils or plates, Finrod had simply moved on to the next thing on his list.

None of them worked, his father still throwing himself into his work to escape his thoughts and doubts, and Finrod still following behind him.

And the next, and the next, until finally the day came where he was sitting in the library, watching through the window as Finarfin slowly dug a hole to plant a new tree. Finarfin had claimed it was to provide them with more shade on their walks through the garden. Then his father took off his shirt.

Finrod swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat, as he finally let himself admit what he truly wished to do for his father.

He had wished for such since he had first spied Feanor and Curufin together, though he had not spoken of it then, when his parents were still happily together.

Even in Nargothrond, under Celegorm’s knowing glances as they spoke of the shared names in their family, he had not allowed himself to think of such. For his father had been on the other side of the sea then, and he had thought still in love with his mother.

But such was not the case, and had evidently not been the case for the entire time Finrod had been gone. Finrod discarded his doubts and stood, walking to his own rooms.

If this was the opportunity he had been given, he would make what he wanted of it.

That night, Finrod did not allow his father to beg pardon and depart once more for work, but pulled him towards a private sitting room. It was not, strictly speaking, made for such meals.

It did have the most comfortable chairs in the palace though, and the ones wide enough for Finrod’s plans.

Finrod waited patiently throughout their meal, chatting lightly of the gossip in the city and his father’s newest plans, until finally there was only one last dessert left on the plate.

He picked it up, biting into the pastry and letting the filling fall onto his lips and chin. Finarfin’s eyes were on him as Finrod slowly ate it, licking his lips at the end.

“You have been lonely, have you not?” Finrod stood, moving closer. He wondered if his father realized yet what Finrod’s plans were .

“There is no reason for you to be concerned about me.” Finarfin did not flinch backwards though, even when Finrod stopped only inches away.

Nor when Finrod sat in his lap, legs splayed on either side of Finarfin’s waist, and there could be no doubt in either of their minds about what Finrod wanted. “There is every reason, when I adore you beyond all bonds. Even our names link us together, Ingoldo and Ingoldo, in a manner few among our people have ever been linked.”

“And yet, I would not sacrifice your freedom for me.”

“Then let us be one as Curufinwë used to be, for I do not view it as a sacrifice but as the fulfillment of my deepest wishes.” Finrod waited for his father to ask what he spoke of. “Ingoldo, bound together in all ways.”

Finarfin did not. Evidently he had known of Fëanor’s relationship with Curufin, or at least had suspected it. That was something Finrod would have to ask about - later, though, when he was not quite so distracted with his own father and his own goals.

Finarfin was quiet for a moment, before he tilted Finrod’s head up to look at him. “Do you really wish such?”

“How could I not? We are linked together, by our names, by our blood, by our love for each other. I have watched you. Amil dwells in Alqualondë now, and shall not return to you. I have returned to you, and I shall not leave this time.”

Finrod shifted then, making sure his thighs brushed against his father’s clothed cock. He could feel it through his father’s robes, swollen and heavy, and wished only that they were now in bed together. But his father would shy from that, Finrod decided. Instead he kept rocking back and forth atop the fabric. It was delicately embroidered, as befit the king of the Noldor, though his father wore his not with stars or fire but with vines and snakes crossing.

The sudden image of the fabric ruined with Finrod’s come smeared upon it came to his mind, white on gold and green. If only his own leggings would not keep such from happening, but that would have to wait for another time when his father was more assured of what was happening.

“Ingoldo,” Finarfin said, but nothing else. He swallowed heavily, and Finrod could not resist the urge to lean forward, nipping at his father’s throat until they both moaned.

“Hush, Atar. Let me remind you of what it feels like to lose yourself in passion and how it feels to be loved.”

Finarfin was silent and still for a moment. Then he smiled, and Finrod knew victory was at hand. “Yes, beloved, if you wish so.”

Neither spoke again for some time. Finarfin spread his legs wider, allowing Finrod to settle more comfortably on top, and slipped his hands under Finrod’s shirt, toying with his nipples until Finrod gasped into each kiss they exchanged.

Finrod kept up the steady stream of kisses, sometimes on his father’s neck and sometimes on his face, but mostly on his lips. Finarfin wrapped his arms around his son, holding them both steady even as they became lost in passion.

Finrod came first, unaware that his passion had even risen that high until Finarfin slipped a hand down between them and into Finrod’s clothes, fondling Finrod’s cock and touching the tip lightly. It was still too much, and Finrod lost control of himself.

“Ata, please.” Finrod pressed down against his father, shuddering through it until finally he lay limp against his father’s chest. “I was supposed to comfort you.”

“And you have and will again. The day is long, the night is longer, and you will not leave my side once more,” Finarfin said.

Finrod looked up at those words. His father had only rarely allowed himself to give into the same urges that had defined the rest of their family, but perhaps now -

Finarfin’s smile was lit by the passion that had consumed so much of their family, and Finrod smiled back to see it.

“Should we not go to bed, in that case, so that I may please you again?” Finrod tried to rise, only for Finarfin to lift him into his arms.

“Yes,” Finarfin said, before he carried his son to the bed.

Neither would leave it again until the morning.


End file.
